


Kitchen Royalty

by siruru



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Childhood Sweethearts, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family Drama, Living Together, Pastries, Reader-Insert, Repressed Memories, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Strangers to Lovers, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-05-16 14:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siruru/pseuds/siruru
Summary: Falling in love wasn’t on the menu, but neither was finding prince charming looking like a trash raccoon and living in your industrial freezer.





	1. sleeping (pudding) prince.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @ciarawritesmarvel ‘s 1k challenge. i am excited for this siers, even though i don’t know where it will go! there is some cursing. 
> 
> Prompt: Sleeping Beauty
> 
> Please enjoy and feedback is always appreciated.

_“Hey, Hey!” the blue-eyed boy looks at the wet girl, as her small body shakes, “It’s okay to cry, girls do it all the time.”_

_She frowns and shakes in that camisole dress and sweater that are soaked to the bone, “Mama said good girls don’t cry. I’m not gonna.”_

_The boy panics because he can see she’s trying her hardest, as she keeps rubbing her small fists on her face to stop herself from crying, though it just makes her face even redder and the boy has no idea what do even with all the experience he has with having younger sisters. Rebecca would have yelled and walked away by now, but this one girl is trying her hardest to be strong and he’s a little at awed with that.  He pulls out a small cup from his pocket and places it into her shivering hand._

_“That’s awesome!” he gives her a toothy grin and close his hand over hers, “Since you’re doing such a great job, I’ll give you my pudding.”_

_“Really?” she asks in a shaky voice as he nods._

_“Really really,” he smiles, as tears start to gather in the corners of her eyes._

_“I’ll make you--”_

_The heavy breathing of a boy and adults yelling cut the little girl off._

_BEEEPP! BEEEP!_

* * *

 

“Motherfucking cupcakes!” you swore sleepily to yourself, hoping to some unknown force that the 4th batch of ordered cupcakes was still okay. It wasn’t everyday that you got such a big order and with you as the only working right now, you had spent most of the night making the freshest and best cupcakes for this high end business meeting.

“Oh, thank god,” you murmur to yourself, seeing that your quick nap had only lasted 10 minutes and not an hour like the last time. You sigh and wearily take out the batch before placing them on the center counter where the completed 200 were already placed in small, personalized boxes. You sag a bit against the counter and take a look around the empty kitchen and a little into the the small section that made up the central shop.

 _SB Pastry_ had been your dream as long as you could remember, making sweets and seeing people smile was what you enjoyed, even if your mother disapproved of such outlandish notions. Food and the culinary arts were a battlefield for said woman and she had instilled that into you and your siblings. Your older brother was a highly sought after chef that was opening his third restaurant in Tokyo soon, while your younger brother was finishing is core training in London, already being sought after some highly respected individuals both there and abroad. And here you were, making cupcakes at 5 in the morning in some hole-in-wall shop in Queens. It was obvious who was the disappointment of the family, but you hadn’t cared in years, hadn’t talked to her even longer than that.

“Ok, no more life crisis while working,” you huff to yourself and chug the last bit of your cold coffee, knowing that you still had another set of 200 cupcakes to make and decorate before 8am. Yes, it would have been easy to have some help, but you knew that Maria’s kid was sick and Pietro...well he did almost burn the pastry shop last time due to that pretty girl, and to be honest you hardly got any work done with the goofball around. This had to be a solo mission.

“Ok, okay. Next batter is ready to be placed in the oven,” you murmur to yourself as a cool jazz from your favorite radio station plays in the background. You look to the end of the counter and notice that icing dispensers are nearly empty, which meant you had to make more frosting.  

You let out a groan before heading to the back of the building where most of the supplies where stored in the industrial freezer. It was been a pain to buy and keep maintenance of, but it helped in situations like this. It was just in a super dark place, but you weren’t afraid of the dark -- _no way_.

“No more scary movies with Wanda,” you whisper to yourself at the antics that your best friend dragged you into due to her deep love of the horror genre, though you often didn’t sleep for weeks afterwards. But, taking a deep breathe you steel yourself to enter the large metal room, making sure this time that something is holding the door open, as you head a little ways in to find the ingredients that  you needed. And that’s when you hear it.

_RAP! RAP!_

The sound of metal against metal has you freezing in place, as you let out a small whimper. You grab the frosting box and a metal rack that you have never used. You make the stupid decision of heading towards the back, where there is a door that leads to the alleyway behind the building and take a cautious glance in its general direction. You curse at the open door, looking around and seeing a body --male with a heavy jacket and baseball cap covering their face-- not that far away from it and that’s when you let out a loud scream.


	2. earn your keep.

“Fuck,” is all you could say as your watch the rack bent due to the stranger’s arm. Fear grips your throat, as he lets go and stands there confused for a moment. After taking a while to grab his bearings, he raises his hands in surrender and all you can do is blink. 

“No harm,” he mutters out as you take a step back and close the back door, “...Pietro.”

The homeless freezer man says the magic word and you pause in what you intended to do, but still hold up the rack as you question, “How the hell do you know Pietro?” 

_ “God, what would she do at a time like this?” the blond murmured to himself, while holding a pack of ice near his right cheek. His first encounter with the “man that lived in the freezer” wasn’t the best since said man had nearly socked the living lights out of poor Pietro Maximoff. He watched the man from across the countertop eat a few red velvet cupcakes, from the one recipe she had struggled with a few days ago, and a cup of coffee. _

_ “So, how long have you been sleeping in the freezer?” Pietro starts, as blue eyes looks at him, “ _ **_Why_ ** _ are you even sleeping in the freezer?” _

_ The man grunts and doesn’t give him an answer. Pietro knows that after this he should just let the man walk away, maybe tell her to get that damn back door fix but he knew better than that. He knows that if she ever found out --and by some strange way she would-- she would never let him live it down because she just had to help everyone that came her way -- like some damn Disney princess.  _

_ The man gets up, imposing and silent as ever, but Pietro stops him a nervous chuckle leaving his lips as he hopes he doesn’t get murdered by the end of the night.  _

_ “Look, how about you help for the night. Maybe, earn some money and food.” _

It takes twenty minutes for Pietro to answer the phone, as some girl could be heard in the background. The man is sitting on the counter in front of you as you run back and forth from making frosting, to making the next batch of cupcakes, and taking the next set out. There is a curl of amusement to his lips, but you are too busy to notice. 

“‘Sup?” is all he answers as you fight back the urge to yell at him like last time. 

“How long have you been letting someone else do your job, Piet?” you question with a slight edge of anger in your voice, and the blonde man knows he’s done for as he begins to give out excuses like when he nearly burned the store down, and while you love him like a brother; he was the worst employee that you have had so far.

“ _ You would’ve done it too _ ,” he exclaims with a sort of accusing laughter and he was right. You were the type of person that would help wounded animals and people down on their luck, you sometimes took that Disney trope that you had grown up with to the extreme. Hell, you weren’t even gonna fire Pietro, just give him time to get his shit together.    
“I know,” you sigh out, as the man cocks an eyebrow at your pacing, “And I know, you’ve been struggling with the extra jobs and school, so why don’t you take a break from here, and I’ll have him take over. Do you ya trust him?”

You’re whipping the frosting together, as blue eyes keep staring at you in disbelief as he strings his hands together nervously. He had a feeling something was going to come out of hanging near the pastry shop too much, he was paranoid that way, but not this.

“I mean, I’ve had him there a few times. He seems pretty decent,” Pietro explains as you place the frosting into the icing instruments. You glance at him from your direction and see that he has been watching you the entire time. Your eyes widen as you go back to the task at hand. 

“Okay, thank Piet,” is how you finish the call, though you can hear him in the background yelling that he’s a phone call away if you need anything. You pause your work and walk to stand in front of the homeless man that has seemingly been living inside your freezer.  

You cross your arms over your chest and took a good look at him. He was wearing a dark heavy jacket with a muddy shirt underneath. His hands were covered by some dirty leather gloves. He had a days’ old stubble on his face and his dark hair reached his chin, though you couldn’t tell how dirty it was since it was being covered by a baseball hat. You have quite the mess in front of you, as you thank every known deity because the health inspector wasn’t here right now.  

“Do you know anything about baking cupcakes?” you ask the vagabond as he nods, though he doesn’t explain any further than that, not that you need him to. You nod and rummage underneath the cabinets and place an apron and a pair of gloves in front of him.

“I’ve got 200 cupcakes to make and frost, help me and I’ll double what you made last time,” blue eyes widen at the declaration and you know you had won the man over. You push the items in his direction and point down the hall, “There are some extra clothes in the storage room. Wash up the best you can and we’ll get started.”

He nods and disappears into the back, as you go back to work and notice that the clock is now on 6am -- two hours to complete everything before the customer came in to pick up. You quickly set to work on frosting the cupcakes and putting them in boxes, as the others are baking in the oven. He comes in wearing the apron and gloves, though the clothes are a little to small for him and his hair is really matted to his face. You pause and search another drawer and hand him a scrunchie and hair net. 

“Put these on and we’ll complete the frosting,” you watch the silent man fix his hair and almost want to laugh at the sudden change of fearsome to almost domestic look the two items give him. You explain your current process and he seems to be good at following directions. An hour passes and the two of you diligently enter crunch time with the last set of cupcakes and getting everything ready to get picked it. 

That’s when it hits you, that you almost drop a pastry box.

“Oh shit, I didn’t even ask for your name,” you exclaim as he looks at you from the other side of the room, all his utter concentration on finishing frosting the last cupcakes as the the clock shows 7:30 am,”What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

He stays quiet for a long time that you don’t even think he’s going to answer at this point, as you go back to stuffing the small boxes, that’s when you hear it.

“Bucky,” it’s a soft and nervous tone of voice that has you gapping at him for a moment, before smiling until your cheeks hurt, though he doesn’t return it. 

“Well, Bucky, if we finish on time, pancakes are on me!” 


	3. seecond chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more towards bucky’s side on this current situation.

_ Always help as you see fit.  _

Bucky Barnes has been staring at the plaque on the right of the mirror for the past 10 minutes, unsure of what he was going to find, but knowing that he didn’t want to go back to his small bedroom down the hall. At the same time, it spoke completely to the character of the woman that had helped him these past two weeks since finding him -- she had given him so many things so far, but never asked for anything in return. He had thought it was almost too good to be true.

_ “Okay, dig in!”  _

_ Smile. Warmth. Coffee. Pancakes. _

_ It’s the main things his mind is buzzing around with she sets down a big stack of pancakes from the styrofoam container, having just finished making the last batch of cupcakes right before they were picked up by a Mr. Hogan, she had ordered pancakes from her favorite place through an app on her phone. The coffee is brewing as she motions for him to start eating— he takes half the stack, along with some hashbrowns and eggs. She does as well but just less than him. They eat in silence until she finally starts talking. _

_ “Bucky, I don’t need to know your reasoning, but you can’t keep living in my freezer,” she explains as Bucky looks up with a piece of pancake hanging from his mouth, “But, you’re really good at baking! If ya want, you can live and stay here. I could use the extra help and there’s a spare storage room to use.” _

_ She smiles, and Bucky --even though he has family and friends that love him-- agrees. _

“Good morning, Bucky!” you smile, as he nods pulling on his own apron and hairnet before starting on his own section of baked goods. He learned early on the you did everything by strach, getting up and driving to get to the bakery by 4am, which was usually the time that Bucky was already awake, to mix the ingredients or what you had left the night before. You were precise but graceful in everything you did in your little bakery -- it reminded him off. 

**_“James, remember…”_ **

Bucky shakes his head and proceeds to start glazing the sugar donuts. Baking and killing, the only things that James Barnes had been good at. He takes a deep breath and loses himself to the repeated procedure as you hum to the music in the background. Before you guys know, it’s opening time as Maria comes in with a tight smile and nods in his direction, as she gets ready to man the cashier. He had learned a few days in that you stayed in back during the morning, working on different recipes or spending time making phone calls, though you would be grinning at everyone and anyone by midday. 

Bucky stayed in the back all day, too unsure to move forward and following the system  you had taught him a million times over. It kept him calm when the voices got louder throughout the day, but he was fully aware of how Maria watched him. He didn’t blame her.

_ “He’s staying here! You hired him!” _

_ A voice thunders as Bucky decides to stay in the hallway, almost wanting to run back to the safety of the freezer. However, instead he watches from the dark corner as an equally dark-haired woman places her hands agitatedly on her hips, as you sit there and shrug. The woman says you name in annoyance, as you respond back. _

_ “What did you want me to do, Maria?” you questions softly, as you run your fingers through your hair, “Kick him out? Call the police?”  _

_ “Anything,” she responds, while letting out a weary sigh, making Bucky think that she has gone through this more than once, “You know, you could get hurt or worst. What if Pietro hadn’t vouched for him? Where would you be right now?”  _

_ “I don’t know,” you admit and Bucky drops his head in shame for a moment, “But, Bucky isn’t like that, I just feel it.” _

Oh, if you only knew, he was the worst kind of person. A killer, through and through. His own misery doesn’t let him catch the last sentence coming out of your lips, making Maria halt her speech competely. 

_ “But, you of all people know I wouldn’t let someone go through that.” _

Your selfless attitude and general heart of gold remind him of someone he would rather forget, but that doesn’t stop him from smiling when you give a free discount or sample here and there. From the moment, he sees that and how it affects others, Bucky can just sense how much you love this job. He had only seen a few people that were perfect for their jobs, and not in very good ways, but you shined as your smiled at kids, taste tested new things, or where just cleaning up after a long day.

However, it didn’t help that you had made him a bit of a guinea pig when it came to trying out your new experiments, like now as you are looking at your notebook while mixing all the dry ingredients in a bowl, as he wipes down the countertop near the front. Maria had left hours ago to pick up her little girl. You call him over and hand him a teaspoon of already made bread, leaning into the metal table as he gives you a questioning stare.

“Do you think it’s missing something?” you question with wide eyes, as he takes a bite and closes his eyes trying to figure out the taste at the tip of his tongue. You pout a little and tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his verdict,  before he talks. 

“Needs cinnamon, maybe some paprika,” he answers, as your eyes light up before taking more notes and going back to playing with the recipe. The night goes on a like that for a bit more, as Bucky makes more coffee for the two of you. You go through two more bowl of batter before you end up making a couple of baked Cinnamon-Applesauce donuts, as he goes through half of them.

“The paprika was a great addition, Bucky!” you laugh and take a bite out of the donut, as he gives you a timid smile back.    
He can’t help but agree, and when you’re gone --having gone back to your own apartment-- Bucky can’t help but think that this was a first good day in a long while, as he falls asleep. 

James Buchanan Barnes had been lost for a long while now, but in this dingy little pastry shop in Queens -- Bucky Barnes was getting a second chance at things. 


	4. popularity and setbacks.

“Have you heard anything?” there is a timber of sorrow in the older woman’s voice, as blue eyes sparkle with fear and longing. The man across from her has seen this hundreds of time before, but all he can do it shake his head. A whimper leaves her body, as she simply nods taking in in her desperation and his new information in once more, though it really isn’t anything new.

“Capt-- Steve is going around at least once a week,” Sam explains, “We’re asking all the locals and they keep check of the cameras at all times. But, you should, this isn’t the first time and---”

“And James won’t be found, unless he wants be,” Winifred Barnes finishes the explanation, having gone through at least twice before since his eldest son had returned from his tours of duty, “I know, Sam.”

Mrs. Barnes grasps her bag a bit tighter than before, as Sam stays silent. Sam knew how hard Bucky’s journey had been since his last tour, the one that cost him so much, and after meeting him through Steve at the VA center, he tried his best to provide the best help possible. However, the VA system was a long and hard process that often turned its back on those it was there to serve, Bucky needed certain types of medication and at times they couldn’t be given to him leading to insomnia, night terrors, and other things that he found difficult talking about, until he just disappeared to try to stop the pain. This had been the 3rd time now.

“I can only hope my boy is safe whenever he is,” Winifred, the ever concerned mother, states while dabbing the tears in her eyes away.

* * *

 

Maria is the first one to notice since she is the main person handling the cash register on most days. There is a steady increase in how much the pastry shop is bringing in, there are younger people (who aren’t the regulars from the schools a few blocks down) coming in and taking pictures of themselves and the food they buy from the store before eating them. However, she decides to keep it quiet for now, though secretly proud of how far you had come. Wanda, in all her social media mastery, is the second person to figure it out as she sees people hashtagging _#SBPQueens_ (the tag she created) more on the sites she followed, though she couldn’t tell you since she was so busy with work and planning her future wedding.

No, you and by extension Bucky find out through a concerned phone call and email on an early evening, when Maria taking on a longer shift than usual and you’re trying to figure out a cake recipe.

“I can’t believe this guy gave me until the last minute for this order!” you exclaim in annoyance over an old customer that had begged for an order the day before instead of a month in advance, as Bucky keeps soaking the cheesecloth in Bourbon, as the recipe demanded. You’re running around checking on the order 5 cakes remaining, as your phone ringing cuts off the jazz music Bucky has grown so fond of.  From where he is standing, he can see the picture of a young man smiling and the name _RICHIE_ up front and he can’t help but frown a little.

“What’s up skuttle butt?” you answer, only for Bucky to hear an annoying voice yell back, as you laugh. Over the past month, Bucky had seen you make tens of phone calls, but this one had you laughing right from the beginning, as you pause what you are doing to look at your laptop.

“Holy Shit!” is the only thing that comes out of your mouth before you hang up, as Bucky pauses his work for a moment, “Bucky, look!”

You run over to his side, to show him the bright screen with the letters of a online article grabbing his attention: **_TONY STARK’S FAVORITE PASTRY SHOP IN ALL OF NEW YORK!_ **

“They’re talking about us, Bucky,” you explain and scroll a bit more to show him a picture of the redbrick layout and large windows that hold the shop’s familiar logo,”I knew Mr. Hogan worked for them, but I didn’t think that the CEO and Board members were eating my cupcakes!”

“That’s great,” Bucky manages to say, as he sees your eyes light up a bit more, though the soft tone your smile takes catches him off-guard, as your eyes don’t leave his for a moment.

“You’re a _fucking_ good luck charm, Bucky.”

Blue eyes widen, but before he can say anything --ready to rebut your statement-- you’re already running and yelling Maria’s name. All he ends up doing is shaking his head and making sure that the cakes are put to chill with the cheesecloths on top of them.

* * *

 

However, you knew you weren’t the type of person that was constantly made for good luck, things had to balance out, as your grandmother used to say. You knew there was a chance the articles might catch your mother’s attention, Richie pointed that out to you when he called you the other day. Your younger brother was always been on your side, even though he couldn’t support you for a long time, until he could make it on his own. You all each had a little money from your father, Richie had used his to escape to Europe, and it looked like now you were going to be dipping into that savings to fix the broken pipes inside your apartment.

_“I’m sorry, kid. It’ll takes a couple of weeks to get it fixed,” Stan, the owner of the building, had explained, “I could help with any storage you might need, but I ain’t got anything else. Maybe, stay with someone or rent a hotel?”_

You couldn’t stay with Wanda, who lived with her fiancee “Vision”, and you had lived with Pietro once in college. You didn’t want to try killing him again, what with how dirty he could be and all the girls he brought home. Maria’s apartment was too tiny for just two people, you couldn’t ask her. There was only one other place in the world that you could call your own, so you head back in the last train back to Queens.

God, it was like you were 20 again, as you had gathered what little things you could gather without becoming a safety hazard for the rest of the messed up building. You tug your duffle bag to the back entrance of the shop, as you struggle to find the keys.  

“Stupid old apartment, shitty pipes,” you mumble to yourself in frustration, trying your best not to let this get to you more than it already had, especially with all the bad memories flashing back. Everything from earlier in the week had now been ruined in your mind. You open the door and are about to push the duffle bag in, but that’s when you heard it.


	5. truths and moving.

It takes all of your strength to keep you from freaking out right then and there, from going into Bucky’s room and doing something about his screaming, but you knew better. You had never dealt with what he might be going through, but you had had your fair share of pain attacks that sometimes people just needed to go through the motion of things on their own before moving forward. So, you did what you knew best -- you made tea and started baking the first thing that came to mind -- chocolate chip cookies. 

“Okay, okay,” you try to calm down your speeding heart as the screaming becomes more muffled. You push your duffle bag underneath the large counter and take out everything you needed from the large freezer. You hum while putting the ingredients into separate bowls, and you try to stop yourself from crying at the thought of what could be such a sweet and quiet man like Bucky. By the end of the hour, you had made more than a hundred pecan, chocolate chip cookies and even some tea. You sit in the kitchen area, sleep escaping you but too scared to move, munching on cookies when you hear purposefully heavy footsteps.  

“Bucky,” you exclaim, as the brown-haired man enters the room while putting the metal rod he was holding down, near the edge of the room,  “It’s just me.”   
“Did you?” he murmurs unsurely, looking at the large batch of cookies you had made, before taking his usual seat across from you on the large metal countertop. 

“Yeah, but I won’t ask you about it, if ya feel uncomfortable about it,” you smile. You push the plate towards him, though you don’t know if he would like cold tea. Blue eyes keep looking at you like you might throw him out at any moment, “But, there might be a problem.”

“W-What?” Bucky questions, waiting for you and the inevitable. 

“I’m gonna stay in the attic until they finish repairing my apartment's busted pipes,” you give him a sad smile, though he is stunned that this is what was coming out of your mouth. Bucky was sure that you had grown tired of him, even if you didn’t show it, because everyone eventually did in the end -- that’s what his gut always told him. You couldn’t be this kind, Bucky couldn’t believe it at times -- he was just waiting for the other shoe to fall. For you to show him your true colors, but you kept proving him wrong every time. 

“I could leave if you…” Bucky adds in hesitantly, but ready to leave if you ask that of him. 

“I never said that. I would never ask you to, Buck,” you shake your head, the lack of sleep tonight starting to catch up with you, as he gives you a defeated but sweet smile. 

“I texted Maria that she doesn’t have to open today, if she doesn’t want to,” you explain as you get up and stretch, a yawn leaving your mouth,“Take the day off, okay.” 

You give him one last smile before heading up the stairs near the end of hallway, leaving Bucky to munch on the cookies you had made for a good while. His dreams and your reaction to them slowly moving to the back of his mind due to all the sweetness from the baked goods and you.

* * *

 

Maria decides to open the store a bit later than usual with a little girl, with bright eyes and pigtails, following her. The girl smiles and waves at Bucky, like she already knew him, before taking a seat behind the glass countertop like her mother. Maria nods in his direction, as he tries his best to move forward in the kitchen without you  since you haven’t come downstairs at all since going up this morning -- and Bucky can’t help blame himself a little. It isn’t a quick break, but she decides to close for lunch time that’s when the dark-haired woman stands in front of him.

“Don’t think it’s your fault,” she explains, as she sets the child --Teresa-- on the metal table with small containers filled with salad, fajitas, and tortillas, “One setback and she tends to overthink a lot. She gets stressed over things she can’t control.” 

“I see,” is all really Bucky can say, as Maria gives him a tiny smile.

“I am guessing, you both have that in common,” she keeps talking as blue eyes look at her making tacos, as Teresa exclaims in joy for a moment, “We’re running out of cookies, if you think you handle making them.” 

Bucky gawks at the woman for a good minute, as she eats with her daughter. Maria hadn’t talk to him a lot, even distrusted him at the beginning, though she seemed open to the idea of letting him run the kitchen --your kitchen-- for the day and that seemed like a big trust potentially placed on his shoulders. He wonders if he can handle it for a moment, but deep down he knows he can -- baking, it was one of those few good things still ingrained in him.

**_“A teaspoon of sugar, James…”_ **

Bucky nods and Maria’s smile grows by a smudge. She hands him a big recipe book that he had seen you with before, skimming through it to find a cookie recipe that you already knew by heart. She slides it over to Bucky, who spends the rest of his lunch mixing ingredients and preparing the oven. Teresa looks on with curious eyes, as Maria declares silently to herself that the two of you have much more in common that meets the eyes, though she isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or bad one at the moment.

The act of mixing and checking everything bring a familiar sense of relief to Bucky, as he soon finds himself scooping dough into the large metal sheet before placing them into the preset oven, while Maria goes back to handling the register after opening again for the mid-afternoon rush. Teresa is still sitting in her chair and exclaims happily that she wants one too, reminding him briefly of something when he was younger -- he almost loses himself to the memories, if it weren’t for shuffling footsteps and you running into the kitchen.

“Oh my god, that was a long nap,” you declare cheerful before hugging a busy Teresa who was eating a cookie. You smile at Bucky as he was transferring some cookies over, “So, you were a baker in the past life, huh?”

“Something like that,” he smiles back, before going up to hand a complete batch to Maria, who just nods at you. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly, while playing with Teresa’s hair. He sits down on his usual chair.

“About…” he starts, but all you do is shake your head. 

“We’ll figure it out, but you ain’t leaving, Bucky,” you declare with a fire in your eyes that Bucky swears makes his heart skip a beat, though he’ll deny when he thinks about it later on.

“Okay?” you ask, taking his never-ending silence as a different response. 

“Okay,” he smiles, while watching you take a bite out of Teresa’s cookie and declaring that you want your own, and for now Bucky is sure that he can live with this and your strange sort of kindness. 


	6. living together.

_“Don’t come into my room, please...no matter what.”_

After the first night of you living in the attic upstairs, it was the only thing Bucky requested of you and while it scared you a little, you were also a little proud that he had come to call the space his own. However, the task wasn’t so easy. The screaming was every other night like clockwork at around 1am. It was muffled from where you were, but you could still hear him struggling and in pain and in all honesty you cried yourself to sleep multiple times over your own helplessness. You threaded lightly over what had become his space, your eyes filled with sorrow and questions that Bucky caught too often and he hated himself over it.

So, he ran -- no, not like from his family or from Sam and Steve. He got up at 4am, or whenever his nightmares took too much out of him and in those fitful hours, you got some sleep. However, you knew it was catching up on you -- the worry and stress was making you more clumsy at work and it didn’t help that since the expose you were just getting more orders.  

“Good morning,” you give him a tired smile, while mixing the dry ingredients for your latest order: apple and cinnamon cheesecake. Blue eyes look at you for a moment, taking in the slight difference of your stance and appearance, before wiping the sweat on his face with the top of his long-sleeved shirt.   

Your eyes widen at the small peak of abs and scars close to his waist line. You knew Bucky was built, but damn.

“--are you making?” his raspy voice makes you jump lightly, as you go back to looking at his face. A curious look on it, like he didn’t catch you staring.

“Cheese! Cheesecake!” you declare so loudly that it echoes back at the two of you. Bucky is confused for a good moment before shaking his head and laughing, and to all the deities up above you try to stop your heart from speeding up.

“I’ll go upstairs and shower, then I’ll come help,” Bucky nods, before disappearing into the hallway, as you clutch your metal bowl a bit tighter than before.

“What the fuck was that?”

* * *

 

You had told Bucky once that he was a natural in the kitchen and since Maria had him bake those cupcakes, his capacity shined brighter than before. He was slowly getting used to using the recipe books and there were things that he knew instinctively at this point -- the cupcakes being one of them. Work had become faster and even more fun with him around, as he asked for advice and moved to his own beat around the kitchen. Like right now, as he hummed to the [ Elvis Costello ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9GlC9GyF4Y) song playing in the background while pounding in the breadcrumbs to the last cakes you needed for the day, while you glazed the cooled ones.

“Damn, Buck. You might drive me out of business,” you laugh as take a bit out of his finished product, while you had used the same recipe it tasted slightly different than how you made them, “You’re great at this, Bucky. Really.”

“Thanks,” he pauses and manages to say bashfully while running his ungloved hand over the back of his neck, “My ma...used to make some like these all the time.”

Your smile drops for a moment at the first piece of information you have of Bucky’s life outside of the bakery. You had your ideas and theories, that you had gone over with Pietro long ago, as to Bucky’s past but you never wanted to push him into telling you something either -- I mean, as long as he didn’t try to kill you, it was all right for him to stay.

“Well, I hope our cheesecake is just as good as hers,” you give him a huge grin, until your eyes crinkle, from your chair in his general direction, completely unaware of the blush dusting his face.

* * *

 

The day passes by smoothing, as you end up manning the cash register due to Maria leaving early and Bucky ends watching over the kitchen and cleaning up whatever is left. As the working day draws to an end, you can’t help but question whether you should ask Bucky about his nightmares, not only did you worry but you were also losing sleep. You had wondered how long you could keep going like this, but you were scared about pushing him away. People usually got defensive when you asked too much, at least your mother had once. So, when you were done closing and without any special orders for the next day, you start to make your way upstairs.    

Only for Bucky to stop you, as he hands you a small packet.

“What this, Bucky?” you ask looking at the package of what seems to be 50 earplugs. He gives you a weak smile, as he explains.

“I know it’s not the best solution,” he sighs, “But, to help ya sleep at night.”

“Thank you,” you give him a softer smile, as he nods and begins to move away ready to go back into his room and a bright idea suddenly pops into your head.

“Hey, have you eaten yet?” your voice echoes, as he turns back to look at you and shakes his head. It made you wonder if Bucky ate when he went out on his runs, there was still a lot of things that you didn’t know about him, but you doubted he had a good meal since the employee refrigerator was usually empty and the cabinets only seemed to be filled with cereal and protein bars.

“Do you want to bake a pizza?” you ask, but that quickly changes as his blue eyes light up at the familiar food. You motion for him to follow you and while he is hesitant to follow you any further than the bathroom he had being using for some time now, you wave your hand and tell him to make himself at home.

He glances over once more at the joined kitchen and living room area of the brick building with the countertop being the only thing that separates them. The living room was just an old leather couch and an old television with its lacking sound system.

“Come on, I have pepperoni and veggies,” you say picking up both boxes from the freezer, only to have his stomach growl loudly and for you to declare you are having both pizzas then. Bucky ends up sitting across the high counter top, as you wait for the pizzas to bake in the oven. There is a subtle silence between two of you and you’re thinking about turning on the television when Bucky gains the courage to start talking.

“I just wanted to thank ya,” he smiles a little wider than you had seen before, as you nod, “I know a lot of people wouldn’t do this for someone they don’t know. _Thank you so much_ , doll.”

“Well, they should, Bucky,” you let out a weary sigh, putting your hands on top of the countertop directly parealling his gloved ones, “One never knows when they’ll end needing some help.”       

Bucky gives you a look of confusion, though you can’t see it behind his hair, as you keep staring at his hands wondering what he is hiding and so close to touching them.  

_Ping! Ping!_

The silence is broken by the timer as you jump and hurry to get the pizzas, while Bucky goes around to get the dishes and drinks. You end up eating dinner together and trading simple likes and dislikes, even some stories of your bakery disasters when you had just started, and if either of you sleep better than you had done in quite sometime, it is never mentioned the morning after.


	7. what the hell is going on?

After the pizza dinner, things seems to shift between you and Bucky, there is quiet understanding of each other’s boundaries that aren’t meant to be crossed, such as his nightmares. Yet, at the same time, you seem to be magnetized to each other, you spend breakfast --depending on what you can make due to the orders-- together as well as dinner. To Maria’s surprise, you have given Bucky complete control of the kitchen when you are sleeping, to the point that he starts on some of the orders early on in the morning when he isn’t going for a run. You were teetering on the edge of something with Bucky, you just weren’t sure what, especially after a couple of mornings ago. 

_ It was way too early and you weren’t still fully awake without your cup of coffee. You enter the small kitchenette to the sound of Glen Miller playing in the background, as you have gotten accustomed to when Bucky decided to make breakfast. He really seemed like an old soul sometimes, like he had seen too much and it trapped him, making sure he never forgot.  However, there were moments that he seemed to smile and not look 10 years older than he might actually be-- like right now, as he washed the dishes while shaking slightly to the music. He was too caught up in that, so he didn’t notice that pan was close to burning.  _

_ You still in your sleepy haze fail to realize how hot the pan might actually be, grab it on to yelp. It catches Bucky’s attention, as he curses while grabbing to your burnt hand in the process. You sniffle, as he places it underneath the cooling water -- that’s when your eyes catches a glint of silver and it’s not the metal pan.  _

_ “A metal arm?” you ask, unsure of what is going on, but Bucky’s hand is silver and glimmering as his usual long-sleeved is rolled up to his elbows. Blue eyes look at you mortified and as soon as he knows you are going to be okay -- he’s out of the room. Everything else forgotten. _

“Snap out of it,” you murmur to yourself wrapping the chocolate-tipped madeleines in threes inside small, clear bags with a blue bow. 

Bucky had made them earlier this morning --you were slowly becoming aware that there were just some recipes that he beat you at-- with you finishing the decorations (some 200 little bags and you were halfway done) for Happy to pick-up before the store opened. And while some time ago, you were happy and glowing over the extra customers and coverage, the only thing in your head now was how to get Bucky to talk to you again, which he hadn’t since the incident. 

Men, talking to them, had never been a problem for you, but you and Bucky were a team now -- at least, you thought you were, but while you knew you were something, there was always going to be a wall between the two of you and as more time passed, it bothered you even more. But, what could you do about it?

**Why did it even bother you so much?**

_ Ring! Ring! _

The back doorbell catches you attention, as you look up at the clock to notice that it is too early for Happy to pick up. You finish wrapping your latest bag before heading over to the back, getting a weird sense of deja vu from the night you met Bucky, though when you open the door that is quickly replaced with a sense of horror at the sight of an all too familiar black suited man. 

“Rollins,” you seethe, as he simply hands you a small white envelope with a ensign you know all too well. 

“An invitation,  _ princess _ ,” he says mocking you with the nickname. You grab the envelope and close the door on his face before he can say anything else, or even worst thinking about coming in. You take a shaky breath and don’t leave until you faintly hear his footsteps leave the alleyway. You fall to the floor, hot tears streaming down your face, as you try to stop yourself from having a panic attack right then and there. Through your tears, you can’t help but stare at the logo that you used to hold near and dear to your heart: a little cupcake with angel wings behind it and three little stars surrounding it: one for you and the other two for your brothers. 

_ Marjorie’s. _

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing that you should’ve listened to Richie all those weeks ago. Mother was done playing her game with you.

* * *

 

_   Run! Run! _

It’s all Bucky is able to do keep himself from going crazy with each day since the incident going a bit farther than before. He is almost close to the bridge once or twice, and then he thinks about how easy it would be crossing it again and disappearing from your life, like he had done with his family and Steve. All his years in in the Army had given him the right tools to run and never be found, aside how to kill a man and the nightmares that still ate at him. Bucky Barnes wasn’t good at anything.

_ “Oh, you so much better at making madeleines than I am!”  _

_ “It’s so cute what you did with the whip cream design, Buck.” _

No, this Bucky was good at some things: making breakfast, madeleines, even making you laugh and he could be a little proud of that. He stops running and takes a deep breathe, going through a little breakthrough in the middle of the street. You had always been so kind to him, but he was afraid of what would happen once he told you a little bit about himself. You deserved to know a little bit about him before deciding kick him out of your life, because what else were you going to do in the long run? He knew that while you had been confused about his arm, he could feel the hitch of your breathe in fear, the sleepy haze in your eyes being replaced with something else --- something that he never wanted to see from you. 

 

“I should do it after work,” Bucky sighs out, feet taking easy steps in preparation to head back to the bakery. However, the sound of a hopeful voice stops him. He knows this voice too well, it’s etched on his skin like the scars of war, as blue meets blue. A sad smile on his best friend’s face.

“Bucky!” is all Steve Rogers manages to scream, as he crosses the sidewalk as fast as he can. Bucky stands still, knowing that he can’t outrun the punk now, that had been years ago. 

“Hey Steve,” Bucky lets out full of hope and defeat at the same time, as the taller man hugs him, so close to crying. 

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, tears in his eyes that remind Bucky that despite everything Steve still had a sentimental side, or maybe it was just because they hadn’t seen each other in months -- since Bucky sneaked out of the safe house he had been staying in. 

“It’s a long story, pal.”

* * *

_ Everyone’s worried about you, Buck. Please think about coming back home. _

Those had been Steve’s last words before departing from the little diner they had spent close to two hours in, Bucky telling him what had happened and Steve telling him how everything was going back home. How Sam blamed himself, how his ma was suffering, and his sisters were doing their best to keep the shop going. However, Steve knew well enough to push Bucky to come back right then and there, that he would come and see him again soon, maybe even check out the bakery he worked at. 

_ She sounds like a sweet gal, Buck. I’m sure she’ll understand.  _

Steve’s voice echoes in his head over the thought of telling you everything and while he wanted to believe that, something itched deep in his bones that something bad was going to happen. It buzzes more is his head when he sees that the bakery is closed, which is something he had never seen occur since he started living there. He frowns as he takes the back entrance, only to see you and Maria sitting on the large metal table with cups of coffee and a plate of madeleines between the two of you. It makes him a little proud for a moment, until he sees your face -- weary and like you have been crying for hours. 

“Welcome back, Bucky,” you croak out with a tired smile. Maria stays quiet, drinking her coffee as she watches what Bucky does next, only to smile when he rushes over to you. Large hands grab your cheeks, turning you to look at his worried face. 

“Doll,” he soothes you, as your eyes widen at the sudden nickname, “what’s wrong? What happened?” 

“I got a letter,” is all you can say, pointing to the piece of paper with golden lettering and cupcake motif. Blue eyes now look at you in confusion, as he reads: 

_ Annual New York Bakery Contest!  _

_ Show off your skills and have your winning pastry be sold at Marjorie’s.  _

“Isn’t that a good thing?” he goes back to looking at you, as you just shake your head. 

“That’s my mom, Bucky,” you explain, which just confuses him even more as Maria sighs. 

“And the evil queen is calling the good princess back home,” she says cryptically, before declaring that she is leaving -- giving you a tight smile and a pat on the back, hoping that everything goes well between the two fools that don’t seem to understand what is going on between them.

“I think we need to talk,” you say, holding his hands and staring straight into his bright blue eyes.  

“Yeah, I think it’s long overdue, doll.” 


	8. a spoon full of good fortune.

The “talk” between you and Bucky doesn’t happen right away as it should, what with your building supervisor calling you and saying he has to have you come back to look at your apartment -- the rattling of pipes just being an infestation in disguise. You weren’t going back there anytime soon, as you prepared moving some stuff into storage and bringing some more clothing back with you. Between the two of you and Maria, the shop and the orders keep going but it isn’t the same as it was before. Smiles replaced with concerned looks and shying away from the biggest secrets at hand, as Bucky sees you look at the letter from time to time, because he is fully aware of what  _ Marjorie's  _ is --  it had been his mother’s major competition once across the bridge once, before it got too grand scale and now only had stores in the more “upper class” side of New York. However, the cold side of business never seemed important to you, as you smile caked in flour and other ingredients to your customers. 

However, here you were -kind, selfless you- claiming that you were the daughter of someone who ran such a company. He couldn’t believe it, but frankly Bucky couldn’t remember much from a certain time either. Besides, he has his own fish to fry, as you knock on the door to his little room one Saturday evening, a  week after you have received the letter, with bag at hand and wearing a wistful smile. 

“If you’re okay with talking to tonight, I brought cake and we could make some coffee,” you declare as blue eyes watch you shuffle nervously for a moment.

“Yeah,” he gets up with a defeated sigh, as if he is getting ready to face the firing squad.

* * *

 

While, you were a good baker, you weren’t a miracle worker or patient enough to bake some things, or just weren’t good enough, at least in your head. The dreaded lava cake was one of them, but you loved to indulge on them when you could, especially from Pietro’s main workplace. The head chef and owner of Barton’s --an older, grumpy man that liked to tease Pietro-- Clint was an expert at making it. It was your comfort food and you were going to need after looking back at how exactly you started  _ SB Pastry _ . After eating dinner, you feel blue eyes watching your every move from the other side of the counter as you take the cake out of the container and plate it with a side of vanilla ice cream.    

“My dad’s store wasn’t always so big, ya know?” you start off, as you take a spoon and cut the cake in half, watching the dark chocolate spill out, “He had one or two stores that he kept watch over, named them after his ma, entered competitions and just liked making people happy. Married, had my brothers and I. Worked everyday until he got sick, but never complained. Not once in his life.”

Bucky watches you take a bite out before digging in with his own spoon. You rub your eye with your sleeve, promising that you won’t cry thinking about your old man, you know he would have always wanted you smiling. 

“Worked himself to death. Ma couldn’t pay the bills or keep the shops open on her own, so some  _ financial consultants  _ took it over on her behalf, made it what it is today,” you look away for a moment and huff out a breathe as Bucky’s hand softly grabs yours, “It survived,  _ but at a cost  _ and I couldn’t live with that. I’ve always been the firecracker in the family compared to my brothers. Fought tooth and nail with my mom, with the investors until I came of age. I took my share of what dad left and ran to Queens. This store is the only thing I have left of him.”

“You’re trying to keep his memory alive,” Bucky asks softly, as you nod though you vaguely remember the man that taught you how to bake and to be kind to everyone you met.

“It’s a struggle keeping this place open half the time,” you admit, remembering the last time you had looked into the accounting books, “And neither Rumlow or Rollins are gonna back down from destroying any potential competition.”

“You don’t have to enter,” Bucky tries to deflate your subtle anger, as you dig into the innocent ice cream before taking another bite and shaking your head. The bitterness of the dark chocolate matching your words.

“I’m not gonna coward and run away, Buck,” you explain, “I gotta do this.”

“Stubborn,” he says with a laugh, as you shrug.  The room is quite for a long moment, as Bucky gains the courage to talk, slowly taking off the glove on his left hand to show the metal you had only seen once before. Your eyes meet, as he gives you a sad smile. 

“Signed up for the army straight out of high school. Did a couple of tours, killed people,” Bucky stops and take a quick bite of the cake, “Lost my arm in an attackand got sent back home. It’s been a struggle since I came back, doll.” 

You’re silent as he hangs his head, waiting for you to say something, kick him out or tell him that he was an idiot for getting caught up in a hopeless war, he’s heard it all before but he knows it would kill him hearing it from your pretty lips. Instead he hears you whisper:  _ Can I touch it? _

He nods and gasps silently at the change in density of his metal hand. He feels you lift it and press it to your face, cradling it like its fine china and not some type of monstersity. Something soft presses against the center, as he lets out a choked sob at the immediate acceptance you have of him, of the endless kindness you have shown him, and in the stillness of your kitchen -- something bittersweet, like the ice cream covered in chocolate, begins to bloom in his chest.   

* * *

 

Over the next couple of days, Bucky watches you apply and prepare your proposal with Maria, who had at least two degrees in business, from what he understood. To enter the competition, you needed a corporate sponsor and the two of you had thought it would be best to ask the one man that had brought the spotlight to your little store -- Tony Stark. It was a long shot, but there was an excited grin on your face that Bucky couldn’t help but admire. He had promised himself that he would stay as long as you would need him, then he would consider going back home -- going back to Brooklyn and his own life. Even if you hadn’t rejected who he was and his past, he couldn't keep taking advantage of your kindness forever, he needed to move on and find his own way.  

“Buck,” you drag him out of his thoughts after the morning rush, as he notices you holding a plastic folder, “Do you wanna see our finished proposal?” 

Blue eyes soften at the sight of you excited over your concept and gives you a look over as you are dressed in a black dress and heels,. Happy having gotten you a meeting with Mr. Stark for later in the day, after you had pleaded with him relentlessly. Excitement and a mixed of emotions bubbled in his chest as he nodded, you handing him the folder with a huge smile. He looks over it once, twice -- eyes widening at the signature of your proposal... _ pudding _ .

“Isn’t that a little conventional for a bakery?” he questions, as you look away a little embarrassed. 

“It’s fulfilling a promise from a long time ago, okay?” you explain, a bit shier than before. Bucky nods, though a little unconvinced, thus he decides to say the first thing that pops up into his head. 

“What? From a boy?” 

“Yeah, my pudding prince,” you admit, as Bucky sees how the look in your face softens as if almost lost in a sweet memory, “I know it’s silly and I doubt he would even care, much less remember, but I promised if I entered this competition...I would use pudding.” 

Bucky stands frozen for awhile, as you turn to look at him a little worried. His grip tightens on the folder, but before you can ask if anything is wrong, Maria comes barreling into the kitchen.

“Mr. Stark is here!” she declares, as you jump out of your business dress for a moment, thinking that you were going to go over there and not that the billionaire would drive to your dingy shop in Queens. 

“Oh shit,” you grab the folder, grasping Bucky’s hand for a moment and dragging him out of his stupor, “Wish me luck!”

“You don’t need it, but good luck,” he gives you a boyish grin, the more carefree you have seen him in all the time you had known him, as he squeezes your hand tightly before letting go. Mr. Stark’s voice declaring that he is here and the excited crowd in the front of the shop dragging you away. Bucky is left alone in the back, as a faint memory bubbles to the surface.

“Pudding, huh?” is all he manages to say to himself. 


	9. another type of prince.

 

A woman in a beautiful dark grey business suit sits across the table to a muscular man dressed in a black on black suit. A look of complete calm on his face, but the woman knows better with the subtle nuances that he shows -- the grip on the paper in his hand that is close to tearing it, the tightening of his jaw, the utter look of murder in his eyes, but there was something else and that’s what scared Eleanor the most.

“So the little princess returns,” Brock remarks as as throws the manila folder to her. Brown eyes scanning her face for any change in expression at his words, however there isn’t even a frown on her face. The fire in her had died long ago, she was nothing but a complacent doll that enjoyed the thousands that her expanding company made. But, her daughter, that little baking princess, still did and it had always riled something dark and sinister in the financial consultant. 

“With backing from Tony Stark himself,” Brock can’t help but laugh at the tech company would enter the world of sweets and baking, but Brock understood -- the recipes from the old man that once ran all this were magical, they sold like hot cakes and  _ SB Bakery  _ (as he read on the application) was an extension of that -- one that he needed to own now that he knew it was hers.

“And what do you plan on doing about that?” her eyes move from the desk to stare at him and for a moment Brock swears he sees a bright spark flash before her eyes go back to the dead look he has been so used to since her children left the nest. Eleanor had lost the will to fight when they weren’t there anymore and she was all right with them hating her -- in way, she deserved it.

“Call Sal and Richie, ask them to be part of the jury,” Brock replies as she finally frowns at the thought of contacting her sons, “What we’ll to her, just leave to me.” 

Eleanor’s hands tighten for a moment and for a second the spark burns brightly.

* * *

 

You’re full with a rush of happiness and triumph over the acceptance you had gotten from both  _ the  _ Tony Stark and the current CEO Pepper Potts. Every day following that event you had gotten up early or just didn’t go to sleep as you messed with recipes and made new things. The old recipe book was getting filled once again with ideas and completed recipes, but as the week and work wore on you started to feel the weight of what just might happen to you. You would have to see both Rumlow and your mother again, and while you were certain you could do -- the man had always been a bit too much. The way he stared at you haunted your teenage years and once you graduated you ran, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t in the back of your head on your darker days. 

It didn’t help that Sal had called in the middle of the night either. 

_ “Mom called saying that you’re entering the competition,” Sal says with an even and composed tone, as a level-headed older brother should, “We should all meet in a month’s time, I’m guessing it’s been awhile. Just don’t do anything stupid, buttmunch.” _

If only he had told you that few weeks back when this whole mess started, then maybe things would be different but at the same time -- it was something you should have done a long time ago. It seemed like since meeting Bucky, things just keep accelerating out of your control and while it was annoying in the family aspect of things, you wouldn’t have it any other way. And maybe in that nostalgia of everything in your life, that why you decided to head towards good old Brooklyn. 

“---tle Avenue Stop,” the automatic voice calls out, as you get out of the subway on a very early Friday morning. You had left Bucky and Maria tending the store after making all the pastries this morning and glad that there hadn’t been any special orders to tend to. Walking three blocks down from the station, you notice the white painted motif in front of the red brick building that tended to populate the area. 

_ Winnie’s.  _

While, you hadn’t grown up in Brooklyn, one of your father’s shops had been placed a little bit further down. You often can here in your early years to check how it was doing, while lunch or dinner was usually spent at the generations owned family restaurant and dessert always came from the little bake shop they had on the first floor. Sometimes, there were even kids around your age to play with since your parents sometimes ended up talking to the owners. 

Today, as you glance into the large window, only the shop is closed as the sign shows that the restaurant doesn’t open until 11am. You frown, knowing that you’d be back in Queens by then but the doesn’t stop you from heading inside and getting some sweets and coffee. The chime on top of the door announces your entrance. The man behind the counter turns, blue eyes meet yours and you pause because none of the Barnes you ever meet had blond hair. 

“Um, do the Barnes still run this place?” you can’t help but question as the man smiles with a warm greeting that you almost miss because you have to stop yourself from ogling at this specimen of a man hidden behind an apron.

“Yes, they do,” he explains, leaning just a bit on the countertop, “I just run the shop when they are all out. I’m guessing you haven’t been here in quite awhile.”

“Since I was a kid,” you laugh, as he can’t help but quirk an eyebrow at this piece of information, but he won’t say anything out loud for the moment. Instead, he introduces himself as Steve and let’s you look at all the pastries on display, telling you that some of the Barnes sisters and other workers make everything from scratch and you can help but smile at precious piece of information.

“I was wondering if you guys still had the caramel pudding,” you explain as you can’t help but stutter just a bit at having Steve’s undivided attention, “T-T-he one with the glazing on top.”

“Oh yeah, we just got some last night,” he smiles, seemingly unaware of the distress he is putting you under, as he walks a little way down to a mini refrigerator and takes out a couple. Your eyes glimmer at the sight, as Steve lets out a laugh.

“Can I have all of them,” you state, as Steve nods and you begin to tell him what other pastries you want along with an order of coffee. He packages them all in a box with  _ Winnie’s  _ written on top. He thanks you for buying with them today and that you should come again. You don’t mistake it for flirting, knowing the problems of that all too well, but you can’t help but open your mouth -- ready to say something you aren’t quite that sure of. Then, the phone rings.  __

“Winni--Oh, hey babe,” Steve answers with a bright smile, as your eyes turn up from the bag full of pastries to him. You feel a wave of shamefulness and embarrassment over the monetary crush you had gotten over the blond and thus grabbing your items you run out of there. You run back to the station and take a deep breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” you whisper harshly while trying to catch you breathe but once your mind catches up with your mouth -- you freeze.

_ Why were you apologizing to Bucky?       _

And then you think that pretty boys with blue eyes have always been the death of you.  

* * *

 

Bucky watches you throughout out the days after Tony Stark accepts your proposal. You’re as flighty as a bird moving here and there, experimenting with different tastes and keeping everything going in the shop. Sometimes you disappeared in the morning (calling it “research”) and came back with sweets and coffee just in time for a quick lunch, you were like a storm and he couldn’t help but get caught up in it. He smiles when you do, he finds himself waking up on your couch after long marathons of those baking shows you enjoy, and eating everything you bring him. It’s scary as hell, but this is the happiest he has been in a long time, even though it raises a lot of questions of where he should go next. 

Though he knows the first step begins with Steve, so he calls him one early morning stating that he wants to show his oldest friend where he is currently staying. Steve eagerly agrees and promises to be there the next day. With you leaving in the morning, Bucky doesn’t have time to tell you and he’s too fearful to say anything when you come back. He stays quiet until the last minute, until Steve is at the front counter asking Maria for Bucky and you’re whipping up little cakes in cups as a test. He wriggles his hands together as Maria comes and tells him someone is waiting for him.  

“I know I shoud’ve told you sooner,” Bucky lowers his eyes as you had stopped mixing and give him with a questioning look, as he keeps on explaining,“But, I have someone coming over today.” 

“Oh?”  

“He’s been worried about me and wanted to see where I was staying,” Bucky rubs the back of his neck, as you move over just a little, “I hope you don’t mind, doll.”

“I’m glad that you think I should meet them, even with the late notice,” you ease his nerves with your quick acceptance --as always-- before rubbing your hands against the apron you are wearing, “You ain’t got nothing to worry about, Buckaroo.” 

You wink and though Bucky knows it’s your friendly manner, he can’t help but flush a little. You motion him to bring his friend to the back as he runs towards the front the store, which give you a little time to do a breathing exercise, but it doesn’t prepare you for seeing the blond god from  _ Winnie’s _ again. Steve smiles and introduces himself, as you try not to die right then and there.  

“Didn’t we meet the other day?” he questions, with quick flicker of recognition in his eyes, as Bucky is the one that is taken aback now.  

“Yes, we did,” you explain trying to put down the embarrassment you are feeling from that incident, as Bucky keeps looking at you, “At Winnie’s.” 

“You went to Winnie’s?” Bucky finally manages to say something in all his confusion, as you look at him but at the mention of the place, your smile can’t help but soften. 

“Who wouldn’t go? I’ve loved that place since I was a little kid.  _ I love the pudding _ , ” you admit bashfully as blue eyes widen for just a second before you go back to welcoming Steve to your little store,  “So, what can we do for you today, Steve?” 

“Just a tour is fine, if that’s okay with you,” Steve states with a smile, as you nod and proceed to show him around.

Your voice is polite and kind, like always, but the old soldier part of Bucky can’t help but pick up the hopeful uptick towards the end. There is a soft smile as you gaze at the blond, and Bucky can’t help but feel a painful lurch at the center of his chest as he watches two of the most important people in his life talk and enjoy themselves, as you give Steve a small tour around the kitchen and let him try some pastries. Bucky knows that Steve Rogers is his best friend, since those scrapes in the back alley of his family’s restaurant. But, looking at you, bright-eyed and getting along with the blond, it’s in that moment that he’s has an epiphany. 

_ He knows who you are.  _

But, above all that Bucky Barnes also knows that he’s falling in love with you.   

   


	10. dream a little dream of me.

It’s not hard for Rollins and his crew of flunkies to find where your bakery and everyone connected to it is located and their schedules, that’s one of the things that Rumlow had hired him for. Maria, Teresa, Wanda and her boyfriend, Pietro -- they were all on file and he knew your schedule down to the last second within a couple of days, the one anomaly in all this was the dark-haired man that seemed to live with you in the bakery. 

Besides going outside for a run every once and awhile, he never went out and Rollins never saw him in the store front. There wasn’t any documentation in regards to his employment -- he was a ghost story in all this, but Rollins just had to dig deeper and he was sure he was going to find out something. 

Rollins just didn’t know that he was being watched as well.

* * *

 

Bucky knows that eventually you are going to crash and burn from everything you are trying to do and are worrying about. He tries to do what he can to help, but sometimes you really are too stubborn to ask for help and there are still things that he doesn’t know like the back of the hand like you do. This isn’t his family’s restaurant where he has years and years of experience of knowing the layout and declaring the kitchen as his own. Looking at you moving around to ease is something that makes him miss that -- looking at you makes him miss a lot of things actually.

> _ “So, we’re not gonna talk about it?” Steve finally asks a couple of times after going to your shop, mostly to hang out with Bucky after his work is done in the morning. They take lunch in a little bistro not too far away from the shop after you come back from your “research”. Blue eyes look up from his pastrami sandwich with a piece of said meat hanging from his mouth as Steve shakes his head. _
> 
> _ “What do ya mean, punk?” Bucky asks cautiously, because at this point there is a lot of things they could be talking about.    _
> 
> _ “That’s she’s the girl we used to play with,” Steve explains, touching on the lighter subjects within his head at the current moment, as he laughs -- joyful at this turn of events, “You know, the one that disappeared and you’ve been mourning since 5th grade.”  _
> 
> _ “I know, it’s crazy, isn’t it?” Bucky chuckles at the thought, at the absurdity of it all. However, he hadn’t felt this lucky or this happy in a very long time, “But how did you figure it out so quickly?” _
> 
> _ “Seriously, Buck. Who would ask for a 12-pack of caramel pudding?” Steve laughs at the memory as Bucky frowns, remembering how a certain baker was looking at his best friend awhile back, “Then, she told she used to go there all the time once before. I put two and two together.” _
> 
> _ “Hmm... “ is all Bucky can say, thinking of all the time lost and he reasons why, as he put all the missing pieces together that he couldn’t back as a child. However, things weren’t the same anymore, he wasn’t the same person anymore, though he knew that even then you had welcomed him with open arms. Yet, all the issues going through his head seemed less complicated than your current family situation. _
> 
> _ “I can only wait for now,” he decides, as Steve can’t help but shake his head. _

Bucky had decided that for now he was going to do the best to help you, to be your backup in all the family drama and when this was all over -- maybe, he would tell you who he was and how he felt about you. For now it was better to stay silent, you already had a hundred things on your plate and if he thought about it, he did too, but James Barnes was done running away. 

At the same time, he knew that he had to deal with something else first.

* * *

 

As most everyone saw, you were running yourself ragged what with everything you were doing for the competition, thinking about your brothers coming soon, and being on alert over Rumlow --Rollins wasn’t exactly very discreet, especially since he hadn’t changed the men that worked for him since the time you were a teenager. However, this would eventually going to collide within your body as you felt it getting weaker over the ongoing days with coughs and red eyes here and there. Maria told you to stop working, but you didn’t listening, as Bucky just watched as if silently judging you. 

It finally catches up shortly after you close the shop, a wave of nausea hits you hard as you stop moving for a moment and grab the metal table. Bucky comes into the room after putting some things away as he rushes to your side. You’re breathing heavily, as he feels your forehead with his right hand.

“Shit, doll. You’re heating up,” Bucky curses, as you lean into his right side. He quickly forgets about everything that needs to get completed as he picks you up bridal style and heads to the stairs. He’s making a checklist in his head over what you need to fight this fever or cough that you have, while trying to remember what you had in your kitchen and bathroom in terms of food and medicine. Bucky was slowly starting realize that he was spending more time in your little apartment than in his own room. 

For now he ignored that, as he pauses at his next challenge -- your bedroom. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” he murmurs to himself as you let out a huff just beneath his chin, as if responding to his apology. Bucky moves you just a bit and tries to ignore his face heating up at how close you are to him, while opening the door.

The dim lampshade lighting lets him see most of your bedroom and he can’t help but smile at your eclectic taste, though he sees the baker shine with all the cooking books and little cute objects in the shape of pastries and other foods around your room.  He lays you down gently, as you groan. He promises that he’ll be back that just needs to get you somethings. 

Bucky is scampering around the kitchen when he hears two things that put him on high alert: a rattling noise from downstairs and a familiar song from an old movie. He moves swiftly into your room to see you sitting up with hazy eyes and a music box that plays the song from an old Disney movie you loved so much -- he’s heard you play it a million times before in another life.      

“I used play dragons and princess all the time back at  _ Winnie’s _ ,” you says groggily as he hands you a glass a water and some medicine since it hadn’t been that long since you had eaten dinner, “With the owner’s son…”

Bucky decides to stay quite, as he picks up more noises downstairs. His body slowly going into his old soldier habits, even if he wants to stay and watch over you a bit longer. 

“I wonder how he’s doing,” you keep on going as the medicine takes its effects rather quickly with how sick you are, “Couldn’t go after dad died. I hope he’s okay.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Bucky soothes you, he places the blanket over you, “Get some rest, okay?”

“Night Bucket,” you yawn before sinking into the warmth of the blanket. Bucky’s heart tightens in his chest just a bit at the sound of that childish nickname, wondering if you’ll remember any of this when you wake up, so he decides to take his chance.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” he says, while placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

Bucky closes your door soon afterwards and picks up an old, familiar metal bat at the front of your door. The noises rattling downstairs and for once in a long time, Bucky doesn’t seem to mind playing the knight in shining armor - the solider saving the princess.  


	11. love me tender.

Bucky Barnes looks at the aftermath of his work, as he slides into one of the metal stools next to the central countertop of the kitchen. Though he tried his best, there are some busted metal pots and pans scattered on the floor. The bat he had taken from your little apartment had a large dent in the middle and Bucky was covered in floor. The assailants --three guys that were past their prime and one that Bucky had to use the bat on-- were tied up and locked in that old familiar industrial freezer, though the lock to the outside was firmly in place, so that they didn’t have the chance of escaping like he used to when morning came. 

Blue eyes scanned the area unsure of what to do next, he couldn’t really call the cops without blowing this into a big deal, but he also wondered how you haven’t woken up with all the noise downstairs -- he silently thanked that powerful sleep medicine. 

Bucky ran a hand through his sticky, matted hair thinking back to who could exactly help in this situation. In that moment, he let out a tired chuckle before limping just a bit to the old phone you still had connected to the pastry shop. He dialed a number that he had never used, but the stoic woman had made him memorize just in case. It takes her two rings to answer, as she questions what Bucky wants in the middle of the night. 

“Yeah, some guys attacked the shop,” Bucky explains, as he can already hear moving in the background, “I just need some help--”

“Don’t touch anything,” Maria states to shut the younger man up, “I’ll be there in 20.”

She hangs up quickly after that and Bucky doesn’t know if he should be worried or not.

* * *

 

Maria Hill is good with her word and arrives 15 minutes later with two men dressed in black behind her, as they ask where the guys that Bucky fought are located. He points them to the back, slightly confused as Maria begins to clean up the kitchen disaster. Bucky is about to stand up and help when Maria looks at him with a glare that tells him to sit back down. The two men haven’t come back though there is some noise in the back, Bucky can only assume they are using that cursed backdoor -- to do whatever it is that they’re doing. There is an awkward silence to the room until he finally decides to ask.

“So, cashier is only part time, huh?” he asks with an awkward chuckle, as Maria turns to look at him from sweeping the floor. 

“Something like that,” Maria explains vaguely, as she keeps sweeping and placing the lost flour into the trash bin,”I like to think of it as being a fairy godmother.” 

Bucky raises an eyebrow at this, suddenly thinking that the trio is an odd version of  Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather. He wonders how long this group of people have been watching you and their exact reasons, though he has an inkling that it might be due to all this family drama around you. Maria seems to read his mind, as she starts talking again.

“The man associated with her mother has done some awful things,” she keeps explaining, as Bucky can’t help but tighten his metal hand at the thought of you being danger, “We’ve been waiting a long time for him to mess up and he seems to so around her. But, don’t think I don’t care about her any less -- she’s a good kid.”  

“That she is,” Bucky can’t help but agree as he lets it out in a dreamy sort of way, which causes Maria to shake her head -- she knows too well when fools are in love. 

“You shouldn’t worry about the small stuff,” Maria pipes in once more, this time cleaning the countertop as Bucky looks at her, “She went through a lot of things while living with her mom, I am guessing that she might have forgotten somethings to keep herself safe, but she used to talk about  _ Prince Bucket  _ all the time once.” 

“I am guessing, you know who I am then,” Bucky states more than ask, as Maria stops and gives him a pointed smile.

“There is nothing we don’t know, James Buchanan Barnes,” Maria laughs for a moment, as Bucky cringes at the sound of his full name. However, before he can ask what she means by all that -- the short bald man comes into the room once more. The two of them share a nod, as Maria puts the rag on the counter and gives him one last nod before leaving the room.

“Take care of our little pastry chef, Barnes,” is the last thing she says before leaving the kitchen area spotless and him there sitting in confusion.

_ Just who the hell was Maria Hill? _

* * *

 

Bucky does his best to follow Maria’s instructions because while she is still there, there are times that she leaves early or has those two men --Fury and Coulson, from what he hears-- around the store. They don’t scare the clientele as much as he thought they would, but it’s still a little creepy especially when they won’t tell him what happened to those men from the night before. All Bucky can do is man the kitchen and watch you get better. 

He just didn’t know that meant to clinging to him every chance you got, as you made him stay with you during lunch and talk about what was going on for the day. It meant spending dinner time with you even more than before, as you made him lay in your bed and watch old bakeshows with you until both of you fall asleep -- tangled limbs and a cold shower were the aftermath for Bucky the following morning. 

The whole week drove Bucky insane, he just didn’t know you were feeling the same way as well. 

You quickly got used to having Bucky at your side, not just at the kitchen but cuddling into his warmth at night as well. While, you had never been afraid of said man, the more you got to know him had allowed you to fall for his quiet and caring nature, it was just that this week of illness showed you a much softer side to him and what it could be like if you accepted what had bloomed in your heart since letting the man into your little business -- all thanks to that damn freezer. 

You could only hope that Bucket could forgive you, as you watched Bucky on a late Saturday morning trying to make breakfast in your small kitchen in sweats and a long-sleeve, while humming to himself a song you don’t quite recognize at the moment. You drag your blanket closer to your body, as your still sick body can’t hold the secret any longer.

“I think I might be falling for you, Buck,” you murmur, hoping that he hadn’t heard you but you start to freak out just a little when the hunkering brickhouse freezes. 

Cue cursing and the sound of dishes being moved around in  bewilderment, as blue eyes turn to look at you in confusion but also complete adoration written all over his face. You smile as he makes his way towards you a goofy grin on his face as he cups your cheek with his right hand. He keeps asking you the same question over and over are -- _ are you sure? _ \-- as you can’t help but keep nodding and laughing as he pulls you in closer, foreheads and bodies touching. And while he doesn’t give you an immediate answer back, you can tell in his body language that he feels the same way, maybe had been for just as long as you have. 

_ “Who the hell is Bucky?”  _

The happy moment is ruined at the sound of a familiar voice, as the two of you turn to see a frowning Sal and a clearly cheeky Ritchie that can’t help the smile blooming on his face over his shorter brother’s shoulder. You groan, as the oldest of your siblings waits for answers and Bucky hopes he doesn’t get killed by the chef right then and there. 

  
It would be a excellent headline though:  _ Bucky Barnes done by the gal of his dream’s older brother.  _


	12. all that is merry and sweet.

Eleanor laid in the darkness of her room. She had been sleeping alone for a very long time now had been feeling lonely since her husband died, even more so when Rumlow stopped his “visits”. Eleanor had lived with silence for a long time that she was a mere husk of the person --wife, mother-- than she once was, so never in all her years of life did she blame her children for leaving her when it was time. It was something that was bound to happen, it was just more destructive with her.

It just seems like she was that type of person -- one that had very little interest in things and could hardly keep things together for long. Her husband was a bright sun in her patchy gray sky and as much as she hated baking and cooking (horrible at it since the beginning and hated it even more after it took him away from her), she was happy all her children had taken after their father. Saul was a chef, her daughter owned her own successful bakery, and Richard was training in a variety of things.

They had escaped their hellish household run by a wicked mother, but the dragon still wasn’t dead -- still won’t leave them be.

 

> _I hope you can forgive us one day, but we’re siding with her on this one._

The two sons, tired of running, had told her before they came back to New York with her restless daughter leading the charge. Rumlow won’t give up until they are defeated and submitted to him in the worst kind of way, she knows him too well and she wonders: _What are you going to do about it?_

 

> _Are you going to hand your children to the beast, Ella?_

She had done so once and for years, their resentment and scars still ringing loudly in the dark, in her dreams in the worst sort of way until they all grew and flew away or hide until the time was right. Her husband’s voice lingers in remorse over what she has done, over what she will continue to do, but her children’s courage and tenacity causes something bright to jump in the middle of her cold, graying heart. She knows things that no one else does -- hidden businesses and dealings that have made all of Rumlow’s companies successful and prosperous, like her husband’s bakeries.

Eleanor takes a deep breathe before getting up where she hides things and looking into the darkness of her room. She searches in of her drawers, in the back and near the bottom. A maniac giggle is all she breathes as she finds the black phone she had been given years ago. She presses a button and the phone begins to ring.

She knows that she is beginning to set in motion something big -- things that will hurt him in the long run, but she needs to do this one good thing in her life -- at least for her children.

The phone gets picked up and she asks: “Am I talking to Agent Coulson? Do you remember me?”

* * *

 

>  
> 
> _I think it would be best to save the romance until the competition is done with._

No, Bucky Barnes hadn’t died the day Sal and Ritchie had come to visit your apartment mixed with hugs and glares from the shorter of the two brothers, but it had been agreed upon that whatever was going on between the two of you would not move forward until after the competition was done with -- until the three of you finally defeated that demon from the past. It was strange seeing all three of you huddled up together around the kitchen table, like you used to but so much older now, trying to figure out the dessert you were going to present.

 

> _Caramel pudding. Isn’t that a little overdone?_
> 
> _Like the one from Winnie’s? Is that what you’re going for?_

Bucky wonders if any of your siblings remember him. If you don’t, he doubts Ritchie does, who was between Rebecca and Lizzie’s age and was such a scaredy cat, and it was shocking to see him turn into such a confident and flirty man (he had seen it with some of the customers and even Steve when he came to visit once) with an easygoing smile on his face. Sal was year older than Bucky, though the man was always a bit of a loner though still protective as hell. Bucky wasn’t surprised to hear that he was a successful chef -- married and with a baby on the way. There are times when he looks at Bucky, pensive and weary, and the old soldier in him gets put on high alert. Sal saying his mother’s name the other day just confirms that he does in some way.

“So, what do you think?” your question drags him out of his thoughts, as he takes another spoonful of the pudding you had made, with a dozen of other cups surrounding him as he had become the guinea pig for your taste testing, not that it bothered him. Caramel -- like his mother-- was the center of it all but you mixed it with different taste and textures, but you still couldn’t find the perfect match -- Bucky was sure this wasn’t the one either.

“Too salty,” he explains, as you frown. Your brothers and Maria having called it a night already, though Bucky was sure that Fury and Coulson were still outside somewhere -- they had been since the attack on the store, though you had never found out about it. However, you kept on working trying to make a good pudding, so you could present to Mr. Stark before the competition began.

“I thought as much,” you complain, throwing the towel you were holding on the countertop before placing your hands on your hips. Blue eyes look at you, thinks of a younger version of you with the same pose when you were annoyed but still as determined as ever before. He knows you try your hardest not to think of when you lived with your mother, when you were forced to interact with Rumlow -- Maria said that you had nightmares for a very long time from all psychological and emotional pain that you had gone through.

Unlike Sal and Ritchie, you hadn’t talked to your mother since you had runway.

You don’t remember much, but he loves you all the same and he thanks whatever brought you together again.

“I just--”

“Come on. Enough thinking, cupcake,” he laughs, getting up and pulling you out of your thoughts with his hands on your hips, “You can think about it tomorrow. We gotta watch the new season of _British Bake Off_.”

Bucky drags you into the bedroom, as you laugh with no hint of protest as you used to do before, and he kisses you on the temple. Even in the shadows of your apartment and the night as a whole, you shine brighter than any star for him -- give him butterflies and feelings that he hasn’t had in a very long time. Bucky Barnes has come to realize that he loves you now more than he did back then, though it’s mixed with a whole bunch of other emotions that are hard to define at the current moment.

However, he hopes that when the time comes, you’ll be proud of the choices he makes too.

* * *

 

Between your brothers and Bucky, it takes you two more days to decide on what three flavors of pudding that you wanted to show Mr. Stark. You just didn’t think that he would come back to your shop after the first time, but Mr. Stark had a tendency of surprising people -- as he came this time around with a more subtle flair but with Ms. Pepper Potts at hand, and you tried not to die right then and there.

“Welcome,” is all you can say without stuttering, as Sal leads them to the kitchen -- clearly more used to dealing with celebrities than you, as Bucky -manning the front since Maria had the day off- gives you a quick smile before all of you head to the back.

“I hope you’re ready, kid,” the man smiles, as he takes a seat in front of the cups of pudding already on display, “Pepper’s got a real sweet tooth you’ll have to live up to.”

Pepper takes the seat next to him, as the three of you stand on the other side of the table. In front of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts is an assortment of pudding cups in three different colors -- white, yellow with a brown glaze, and milky chocolate. Each has the own assortment of fruits on top, though the chocolate one is topped with a bit of whip cream. Pepper’s eyes twinkle as you begin to talk about each recipe individually, as they taste test each one, and boy was Mr. Stark right because Pepper Potts has all different types of questions for each one and you and Richie answer them well, as she comes back with suggestions just a quickly.

The couple talk to each other over each flavor and in a way that only they seem to understand, as you watch them with bright eyes. It takes them a while to choose their favorite and though it surprises you what it is, you are excited as well. After all is said and done, Pepper asks you a few more questions while taking some notes, which causes Mr. Stark to grin as he takes a hold of her hand near the end.  

“Well, kid,” the billionaire grins, as Pepper shakes her head, “I think you’re gonna make us a great wedding cake very soon.”

“It would be my honor, Mr. Stark!”

You grin as the older man smiles. You turn to look at Bucky who is manning the front of the store and give him a thumbs-up as he grins before going back to work at the sound the chime welcoming a customer. Sal is grinning as Ritchie comes in for hug, all three of you soon heading into a fit of laughter after Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts give you some more information before they leave.

“Congrats, buttmunch,” Sal declares as Richie takes out his cellphone.

“Let’s order the best takeout we can find,” he grins as the three of you cheer.

Bucky shakes his head as the customers give a few curious looks towards the sudden sounds of rambunctious siblings celebrating in the back. The familiar sounds of home making Bucky miss his own for a moment, though those thoughts are quickly pushed away as you come to the front and ask him what he wants to eat.

Your smile is bright and the loveliest sight he had seen, as you look like there has been a weight lifted from your shoulders and while he misses his old home -- Bucky knows that he has a new one here with you too.


	13. the curtain drawing open.

Richie, having spent the longest time living with their mother, probably knew the truest form of the woman sitting across from him in little chic cafe not to far away from the center of Manhattan. Sal had been blinded by his own resentment and inability to do anything for himself and his siblings in the years afterwards, his older sister simply didn’t want to remember the woman their mother had turned into nor the unseen pressures put on her. Their mother was a monster that controlled all the evils in the world, maybe that’s why Sal made up some excuse not to see her today and Richie knew not to even ask his older sister. 

In front of him, behind the designer clothes and cool smile, he was sure that there was still purple bruises and scars that had never really faded. Richie tried to be a good brother and even better son, but he knew that only one winner would come out of this contest at the end of the day. 

“How are your brother and sister doing?” she questions, her tone steady but Richie has had years of practice of noticing when it hitches for just a moment due to whatever emotion she might be feeling. His version of their mother wasn’t some dragon that couldn’t be beaten, but a broken woman that had hidden herself in the woods to protect her sanity. 

“Good,” Richie states with talking a sip of his latte, “Sal is worried over Maggie and the baby. Sis is sort of dating--”

“Really?” Eleanor states with a giddy smile, over the fact that she was going to be grandmother (even though she hadn’t been allowed, by Rumlow, to go to the wedding or had ever meet Maggie) and that her daughter was opening her heart to someone -- whoever it was, she could just hope they were kind to her. 

“Oh yeah, that Bucket is head over heels for her,” Richie smiles, having put two and two together a while back as Eleanor’s eyes widen for a bit -- catching his meaning and for a moment she remembers the crying her middle child had gone through over the loss of her dear childhood friend, over not seeing that restaurant ever again

She takes unsteady breathe and lets out a shuddering laugh over how strange and wonderful life could be sometimes, but she was sure that all her children were happy in this stage in of their lives, even without her. She takes out a packet from her bag, knowing that she is running out of time. Richie gives her a worried and confused look, as he leans in a little bit more -- unsure of what his mother is planning to do. Eleanor just smiles. 

“Sweetie, I don’t think I am going to see you for a very long time,” she explains, as Richie frowns, “But, I hope you know that I love all three of you, even if it didn’t always seems that way.”

“Ma,” he breathes out, as she pushes the envelope towards his side of the table. It had all three of their full name. He looks at it before going back to look at the woman with a sad smile on her face. 

“I am going to do one good thing for you three,” she states, trying to stop her voice from cracking, “They don’t have to forgive, but I want you to know that it’s always been for you three -- even if it didn’t always seem like it.       

“I know, mom,” Richie nods as she grins a bit more, “I’ll make sure they do too.” 

They disperse soon afterwards, Richie to the bakery and Eleanor to a safe house in an undisclosed location, completely under Agent Coulson’s watch -- a first row seat to watch Rumlow’s empire fall.

* * *

 

Steve can’t help but come home grinning from his latest visit with Bucky at the bakery. This was the happiest he had seen his best friend in a long time, and even with all the drama that surrounded the little bakery at the current moment and all the thoughts Bucky was having in regards of what to do after the contest was done with -- that didn’t stop the giggles and sweet moments that he shared with you out in the open. And if Bucky is happy, then Steve is over the moon.

However, Steve was never good at hiding things, especially not from his fiancee who sitting in the kitchen of their shared apartment with a frown on her face, as he came in.  

“Okay, Steve,” Peggy --his girlfriend since college and fiancee for the past year-- asks, as she crosses her arms over her chest, as Steve just stands there like a deer caught in headlights, “What are you hiding?”

“Sweetheart,” Steve starts, though he already knows that he is going to lose, “What are you talking about?” 

“You’ve been going out a lot,” she frowns in worry, though Peggy knew that Steve would never do anything to hurt her --he was a giant gold retriever-- but sometimes he had too much a big heart for people, “I would like to know why, especially if it’s--”

“It’s Bucky,” Steve states because he doesn’t want Peggy to ever doubt him, but  because he was also the worst type of gossiper. 

“What?” her breathe hitches in question, having not heard about the man in months since he had disappeared, as she presses her hands on the table in exclamation, “You found him? And you haven’t told his family?” 

“It’s complicated, Peg,” he sighs out before taking his own seat, as brown eyes catch him like a hawk, “He made me promise.” 

“Then, explain it to me,” Peggy relents softly, as she grabs his hand from across the table and a smile on her face, trying to reach a compromise like they usually did. 

“He’s so happy,” he starts off with a grin and bright eyes, “And he finally found her.” 

Peggy can’t help but grin, catching Steve’s enthusiasm as he moves forward with his story, but she will also be there to remind him that there are a group of women missing their son and older brother dearly.

* * *

 

The next two weeks before the competition are crazy as hell for Bucky and you, what with still talking to Mr. Stark for additional details, there is also an increase in people coming into the store and checking out one of the best spots for pastries in Queens. There is an uptick in how many items have to be made in the day and the orders of people who want to try everything, it doesn’t help that people soon find out your relation to  _ Marjorie's  _ towards mid-week of the second week, as if someone had leaked it. 

You count having Maria (and by extension Coulson and Fury, though only Bucky knew that) as a blessing because when people are asking a million questions and interviews, she stays quiet. The only time you really answer any questions or talk to people is during the social media campaign that Wanda had come up with for all the social media accounts that the bakery had. 

Bucky watched you running around like a chicken with its head cut off. He was there to catch you when you were too tired or simply when you needed a second opinion on things, if the two of you were a team before -- now you were a partnership. Nobody could deny the soft look in his eyes when he looked at you and how you were never not that far away from him. 

You were both lovestruck fools, it was plain to see and while you could share this happiness with your brothers, Bucky was coming to realize that he missed his mother and younger sisters. And while, he was doing a lot better since the last time he had seen them, he still didn’t want to be a disappointment when they saw each other again -- he wanted to go back to Sam and give it another chance.   

He wanted to be good for everyone, but it was hard as hell. Bucky wondered, as the two of you sat down and watched Netflix after setting up the final details for the competition for your pudding treat, if he could be happy with everyone, if they (and by extension you) would forgive him for all his faults.  

“Bucky,” you murmur softly as you see that he is lost in thought once again. You wonder what he was thinking about, but you never pushed him on anything especially when he was helping you so much with the contest just a week away -- both emotionally and within the shop, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just thinking about my family is all,” he answers back as he places his head on top of yours and sighs out, “I miss them a lot.” 

You pause and grab his left hand, curling your fingers together as you ask: “What are they like?”  

He doesn’t answer for awhile, as he takes a deep breathe which causes you to panic for just a moment. 

“Wait, you’re not married, are you?” you can’t help but squeak out nervously, as Bucky only laughs at the question.

“No, cupcake,” he kisses your temple to calm you down, “It’s just hard to put them all into words, but I guess my ma and sisters are all strong women. The type that just pick up everything and just keep rushing forward without a word, sort of make me seems a little weak-willed, ya know?” 

“Now, now--” 

You’re about to complain, he knows you are, but before anything else can happen the doorbell to the back of the store rings. It causes the both of you to pause, as you quickly get up to see who it is but Bucky thinking about the last time that something like this had happened gets up and pulls you behind him. You blink in confusion for a moment as Bucky gives you a tight-lipped smile, silently asking if you’ll just indulge him for this moment. You nod and the two of you take the steps down to the store. 

Bucky makes you stay near the staircase, as he sees four shadows near the metal door. He gives a quick glance for what might be near him, in case he needs to fight. However, he stops when he picks a familiar voice complaining about how cold it is. His heart stops as he slowly opens the door. 

Both Bucky and you stop breathing, though for different reasons as he sees four pairs of blue eyes staring at him with a mix of emotions from relief to confusion to anger. He quickly picks up the hitch of breathe you take from behind him and in that moment Bucky knows he’s screwed . 

“You’re Winifred Barnes,” you state, almost starstruck as she gives you a guarded look, “And those are your daughters behind you.” 

“Yes, and that’s my son, James,” she answers back while pointing at Bucky. Your eyes widen before turning to look back at Bucky, who is clearly panicking as he turns towards you. 

“Doll, I can--” 

“ **You’re Bucket** ,” you whisper to yourself as blue eyes watch you frown as you put everything together. Your face going through a wave of emotions from confusion to concern until it’s completely blank as you walk over to him. 

His mother is quite, unsure of what is going on, as his sisters murmur themselves in excitement over the sound of the familiar nickname. Bucky readies himself for you to yell at him --even hit him-- for lying to you, for keeping things from you like he had always done to the people he cared about for their own safety. However, you shock him once again as you grab the back of his neck and pull him into a heated kiss with your bodies moving together like puzzle pieces to fit together perfectly as you find out the truth. 

You don’t let him go for a long time, careless about having his whole family there and more in love because after everything you had gone through to know  **who** he was and how he had helped you this whole time -- well, that had your heart racing like never before and you didn’t want let him go until. 

Eventually, after a good while you do so, only to see him blushing and biting his bottom lip, as if reminiscing the kiss from a few seconds ago and you are sure that the pain from your cheeks means that you have the goofiest, lovestruck smile. 

“You’re my  _ fucking _ good luck charm,  _ Bucky Barnes _ ,” you breathe out as you had done so not so long ago but so much more loving (and completely in love)  than ever before, as your foreheads are still touching and you are in your own little world until you hear a voice -- that you are sure belongs to Rebecca Barnes followed by the laughing of the other Barnes women. 

“Oh, we’re going to need coffee and pastries for this story.”  


	14. for all the love.

“I missed you so much,” Winifred Barnes declares in the middle of your kitchen area with tears in her eyes, as Bucky’s younger sisters come in and the Barnes clan fill your little apartment with love, as you can’t help watch with a little bit of envy. **  
**

After your kiss, everyone received an explanation of what happened after Bucky disappeared to the point of where Pietro had found him in the freezer and how you proceeded to hire him and how you got to this point. His sisters had been cooing the entire time and while a bigger discussion was needed for what had happened since the last you had seen all of them, that would happen to happen another time. For now, you for to learn about a Bucky who had been lost for a very long time – someone who had nightmares and found no purpose in what he was doing and had the weight of a million emotions on his shoulders until he ran away time after time, even though he knew it caused an incredible sadness to the people that loved him the most.

However, there seem to be a new resolved in his words as he talked to his family, that he had found something during his time with you in your little bakery shop – that he would try his best, but for now he wanted to see the contest through to the end. He promised to call them everyday after work and you would visit when you had the time once more. It eased their fears and worries a little more because all these women could see it so clearly – you had shown it in how close you clung to each other, in the little giggles and shared stories, in how you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other.

You and James Buchanan Barnes were utterly in love.

Somehow, Sleeping Beauty and Prince Bucket had found each other once more and they couldn’t be happier, knowing that you guys would fight for one another in anyway – Bucky was at your side for this family drama and you would be there to support him through his VA treatment when he started it once more.

“Take care of each other, darling,” Winnie states with a loving smile as she hugs you, tight as you smell honey and thyme on her like you used whenever you were at her restaurant. The girls follow one by one with little remarks that “we have to go out and talk” as they give their older brother a teasing smile before exiting into the middle of the night – Bucky standing outside and escorting them as they go.

You stand there, near the industrial freezer where it all began for you and him, trying your hardest not to cry right then and there. Bucky sees you rubbing the corners of your eyes when he finally comes back in.

“Hey, hey are you alright? Bucky rushes to your side, as you let out a small laugh.

“You still have a wonderful family, Bucky,” you can’t help but let out with a tinge of bitterness, as his eyes soften at the declaration because while you, Sal, and Richie are healing and leaning on each other it would never make up for the damage done, or ever be as tight as what he had with his own family.

“And they’re there for you,” Bucky starts off, as he pulls you in for a side hug,”Just like Sal and Richie. Maria and little Teresa, and hell people you might even not know yet. They’re all there for you, just like I am too, love.”

* * *

You guys don’t end up really sleeping at all that night, as you snuggle together in blankets and the emotional turmoil just leads to the two of you sharing stories about anything you can think of – trying to press last years together in a matter of hours, though some wounds are still too dark and scary to share with the other. Bucky –your sweet prince Bucket– brings you in closer, as you whisper if you could look at the scars connecting his arm. **  
**

Blue eyes widen in fear and you almost take back your words, as he nods and takes off his long sleeve. Battle scars are what you meet with most of all, littered all over his body, as you let out a sad sigh and touch the cold metal, looking at him softly while silently asking if you could get a bit closer.

“James,” his eyes widen at the sound of his first name at the end of your tongue, as blue eyes look at you in the dark, “Answer me honestly.”

“Yes?”

“Where you going to run away once the contest ended?”  

It hadn’t taken you long to put two and two together from all of the stories he had told you. Bucky loves people and wants to help all those that he can, you were part of the list but you wanted him to know what he wasn’t alone – he had family, friends, and you had each other now.

“I–I didn’t think…” he starts off with a stutter, as he watches you lean in and kiss the scar tissues between his shoulder and the metal meet,  “Yeah, I was. You don’t deserve me the way I am now. You deserve the best, cupcake.”

“You’re already the best there is,” you admit, while circling your arms around his waist, “Always have been, Bucket.”

“Your sweet words are killing me,” he laughs, a little strangled with emotion for the moment as he grabs your face and proceeds pepper kisses all over it, as you giggle at the feel of his scruff on your face.

“Well, it’s true,” you state as you feel him let out a deep sigh, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, “I’ve said it before. I got you and you got me. We’re a team.”

“I gotcha,” he places you on his left side, metal arm around your waist as you sink back into the bed and try to finally get some shut eye after a crazy night.

 _Together. Now, that had a good ring to it,_   were Bucky’s last thought as everything finally seemed to be falling into place for him.

* * *

Two more days of testing and perfecting your little recipe, as the day finally arrives. The participants are supposed to meet in the central headquarters in Manhattan, a closed meeting between the chef and their choice of assistant. You would make your make your recipe in front of board members and they would all get a taste and decide amongst themselves then and there. It had happened every once and awhile, in odd intervals since you had left your home. People won, became famous, before they were paid off by Rumlow and their recipes became part of the assortment of Marjorie’s line of food. **  
**

However, you weren’t here –with Bucky at your side, as you had decided with your brothers would be the best choice– standing in an elevator to set foot into a place you hadn’t seen since you were sixteen for some simple prize. You would stare at your fears in the face and show Rumlow and your mother that you weren’t afraid anymore. And maybe, Richie would be right in what he had said before you left.

_Everything will be all right._

The elevator stops on the fifteen floor, a place where all the biggest kitchens and testing was done for new products — you spent hours there at times when you were younger. Today, though it was filled with 4 other contestants and their chosen assistants standing behind metal cooking tables and their own variety of ingredients and chosen instruments when it came to cooking. You took out your own state of the art Stark marked utensil, before going around to see that you had everything you needed, while trying to make sure that you stayed calmed at the same time.       

Nobody seem to want to talk to you, knowing fully well who you were, until a redhead from the the other side came to your table. She was pretty in her black chef uniform and while she didn’t seem to smile, there was something bright in her green eyes. She looks at Bucky once before asking for your name.

“Yeah, that’s me alright,” you let out in a nervous chuckle, as she gives you a brief smile, while holding out her hand.

“Natasha from  _Red Cake Sweets_ in Brooklyn,” your eyes widen at her introduction remembering how well her little shop used red velvet and devil’s food in the most ingenious ways to show off their sweets, “I used to love your dad’s egg tarts, used to eat them when I had enough allowance saved up.”

“I love your red velvet choco cupcakes,” you manage to squeak out, as she smiles a bit, as Bucky shakes his head as he watches the two of you talk for a moment before setting everything up.

You end up talking for awhile before it is the start time and Nat –as she insist on you calling her– goes back to her own table with a man that has dark curly hair and glasses. Bucky smiles and grabs your hand as you wait, that’s when it happens – the doors open and in come the men dressed in fine suits. You know some of them – Pierce and Zemo stand out the most, but the man in front of the crowd grabs your attention the most. The smile he sends you if the stuff of nightmares, as Bucky tightens his grip to keep you from shaking.

“Welcome to the–” that’s all you can stand from his voice, as you close your eyes for just one moment.

You grip Bucky’s hand back as tightly as you can before letting a deep breathe out. You look at Bucky, Rumlow forgotten into the background as you give your partner the brightest smile you can.

“Looks like I’m finally keeping my promise, Bucket,” you let out a shaky laugh as the bell rings for the start and while you don’t look up you know that there are several eyes on you.

“Show them what you’re made of, cupcake,” he nods, as you begin to set to work.

Nobody in that room knew what was going on a few floors up and in Rumlow’s home as well – a full scale investigation and search had been launch.


	15. life's a road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. This is one of the first series I started and while it hasn’t always been a blissful ride. there isn’t a big confrontation in this – sometimes that doesn’t happen in real life, but you have to keep moving forward and that’s the type of ending i decided to go with, but i hope you can still enjoy it. 
> 
> I have love these two and am sad to see them go.
> 
> Please enjoy and feedback is always appreciated.

“It should be on the top left,” Phil calls into the comms system that he is using, while watching his agents go through several floors of _ Marjorie’s _ HQ. They were lucky that most upper staff had been told to take the day off due to the competition, though Coulson wasn’t sure why. 

By side him, Eleanor sits poised and composed as she watches her empire go down the drain as the agents find document after filthy document that connects the board to several illegal activities. Pierce enjoyed his money laundering and illegal gambling with company funds. Zemo ran an underground illegal arms trade with some of the the shops closer to the Canadian border. Rumlow took a piece of each of those cakes, while also bribing several politicians to keep them shut, though he found his dearest enjoyment with young girls and organs. 

Eleanor gulps at all the horrible memories that bubble to her head of her dealings with such horrible men over the years, how she let this all happen and destroy her husband’s dreams. She could just hope that he could forgive her one day. She glances at the various monitors until her eyes stop at one face.

“She looks just like her father,” the older woman states, seeing her daughter moving around in clear and precise motions throughout the kitchen, as she sets about making her creation. A tall, muscular man picking up when she needed him to and it doesn’t take Eleanor long to figure out who it is. 

“They make a good team,” Phil remarks, as the woman just keeps staring with watery eyes, “They’re a very cute couple too, it’s just lovey-dovey at their shop the whole time.”

“I’m happy,” she states, while taking about a tissue, “I am so happy that they’ve were able to find each other.” 

Phil nods and give her a moment to herself. Eleanor mourns the past and all her failures, but she hopes that her children move forward with what she has left them and while she might not ever see them again -- maybe, they will find it their hearts to forgive her.

* * *

 

You stand there nervously behind the counter, as you stare at the empty cups of  [ salted caramel pudding ](https://www.bhg.com/recipe/salted-caramel-flan-with-blackberries/) that the board members had gobbled up and while you tried your hardest not to think about their opinion, it’s something that came up whenever you were trying something new.  

“Do you think---”

“I know they did,” Bucky stops your fretting question, as he grabs your hands with his, “Didn’t you seen the looks on their faces?” 

You shake your head no though because you didn’t want to look at the people that haunted you for so long, because even though they had done nothing personally to you -- they were Rumlow’s cronies, so they  had to be just as bad as him. You didn’t even glance at Rumlow when he came to your table or tried to grab your attention, instead you move Bucky towards the front and had him answer any questions as you made sure there were enough cups for everyone --even the other contestants-- to try your sweet creation. 

It might seem cowardly and a bit childish, but you had already used enough of your courage setting foot into the building and taking part of this -- you weren’t ready to throw yourself out there to be harassed or worst. You had to choose your battles wisely and for today you turned about face on Rumlow’s sinister smile (Bucky always made sure to be blocking his view of you), but you were still proud of yourself.

> _ “Delicious,” you had heard him say from the front as you took out another tray of pudding cups from the freezer. You feel a shiver run down your spine at the sound of his voice and you are certain that he is watching you, “Surely does take after her father.”  _
> 
> _ “Well, that’s actually based off my ma’s recipe,” you hear Bucky come in, just in the nick of time with a smile though you can catch of slight edge to his tone, “She really loves it, though there are a couple of changes and add-ons, if you would like to know about them. _
> 
> _ “And you are?” Rumlow asks, as you can’t help but laugh just a little at Bucky’s response.  _
> 
> _ “I’m the significant other.” _

“Don’t you think they have been gone too long?” you turn to look at Nat, who has a frown on her face. The other two chefs and their assistants can’t help but agree, as they all look to you for some answers since you were the one with slightly more information than them.   

You were aware these sorts of contests for Rumlow and the board could run the whole afternoon, as they decided over what sweet pastry to steal and the terms of the contract and money. However, you knew that this could be your fault as well, they could be planning something for you alone because you were part of the contest. There were too many questions and variables that your memories couldn’t answer and that you would rather not think of. 

“You do have a point,” you remark as Bucky frowns -- that’s when all of you hear it, the thumping of several footsteps heading all in one direction. You look at Nat and then at Bucky who frowns and pulls your just a bit closer, his old training kicking in once more as you swear you see the redhead grab the closest sharp object she can find. 

“Stay close,” is all Bucky says, as you nod and grip his arm even tighter. The pouding moves some object around you for several seconds, but it feels longer than that. However, you don’t plan on closing your eyes this time around. 

The doors open and while you are expecting to see a grinning Rumlow with Rollins at his side, instead you are meet with several people cladded in blue and a very familiar face at the center of it all. 

“Isn’t that Mr. Coulson?” you whisper to Bucky, who just shrugs as the man begins to speak.

“I must sadly state that this contest is cancelled,” his statement sends of all you into overdrive asking questions and exchanging curious looks, “This place is now considered a crime scene in our case against Mr. Brock Rumlow and the rest of the board of directors. Please leave everything here and we will have someone escort you back home.” 

You were sure you were going to drop to your knees at the sound of such news, if it hadn’t been for Bucky holding your waist at that same moment. He gives you a timid smile, as you let out an ungodly sob and the tears of pain and loss finally break free.

* * *

 

_ MARJORIE'S CLOSED DOWN! CEO AND BOARD MEMBERS ARRESTED FOR HORRIFIC CRIMES HIDDEN BEHIND THE LUXURY BAKERY BRAND.   _

“Dad’s probably rolling around in his grave right now,” Sal can’t help but remark with an exasperated sigh, as the three of you stare at the newspaper placed in the center of the metal table. Bucky had decided to go visit his family as the three of you sorted, for first time in a long time, everything out. 

“Maybe, it’s for the best,” you state while looking at Rumlow trying to cover his face from the hoards of reporters that had gotten the information that something big was going to happen that day -- you just didn’t know that it would lead to Rumlow’s arrest, though you couldn’t wonder about one person, as Sal does the questioning for both of you.

“Rich, have you heard from Ma?” Sal looks at his younger brother, as the youngest of the three of you takes out a large envelope, slowly pouring the contents onto the metal table -- old pictures, papers, three letters with each of your names one of them, and some wads of cash. You look at Sal, who seems to be equal parts confused, angry, and exasperated. 

“Nostalgia,” Sal remarks, “Is that how she’s trying in win us over when she gets put on trial?” 

“I don’t think Mom wants you to forgive her,” Richie states with calm smile, “I think she just wants us to finally move forward, to try to find our peace with the past? Do you think you could try that?”

Both you and Sal look at each other before looking at the letters in front of you. While, you found it hard to believe, you knew that Richie was the one that had spent the most time with her, he had probably seen things that you never had after you had decided to run away. You guys were never going to be close, but you could give yourselves little compromises here and there in order to start this family thing anew. 

“We could do that,” you state softly, as Sal nods -- probably understanding the same you did as a grin blooms onto Richie’s face.  

“Thank you,”  is all he says, as the three of you get up and slowly move in to hug. Small steps into forming something that had been lost, and maybe that’s what your mother really wanted in the end.

* * *

 

Things go back to normal the best that they can, as you find yourself in the spotlight for the following weeks after Rumlow’s arrest and the fact that none can find out where your mother is. Richie never says anything about what he might know and with everything said and done, they soon got back to their respective lives in different countries, though with the promise to meet up for the holidays. You piled with work in the aftermath of everything (from several curious first-timers and those that you have known since you opened the bakery and are trying to do it for posterity's sake), as the rest of the contestants and you connect with Mr. Stark to get something in the works with his September Foundation and people -students, veterans, you weren’t sure yet- that wanted to learn such skills, but didn’t have the proper tools or education. 

It all made you a very busy bee outside of the shop, you were pretty sure that Bucky and Maria could handle everything -- they were even talking about hiring more people with Pietro throwing his hat in the ring once more. And while you hadn’t seen Mr. Coulson since the arrest, you were you might once the trial got closer and then maybe, you would get some answers to that side of the investigation. 

However, for now you were content in eating dessert in your little kitchen from  _ Clint’s _ , as the two you were finally spending some time together to catch up after a hectic week. 

“Thus, Nat and I are going to working on setting up some beginners’ classes come fall,” you state happily before taking another bite of the fudge cake, as Bucky nods completely entranced by all the work you had been doing. 

“You two really hit it off, huh?’ he can’t help but laugh at the memory of the redhead making sure you had her number before you all left that day. Now, you were working on this program with the September Foundation and all the other bakeries she was connecting you with -- it could be a lot at times, but you were managing.

However, that wasn’t the main you wanted to talk about tonight, as you pause for a moment before asking that one question.  

“So, what have you been talking with your sisters about?” you question with a bit of hesitation, as he looks at you. You knew that Bucky had been talking to his sisters and mom about going back to get some proper help because there was only so much you and everyone’s love and support could go for him, though that didn’t mean you weren’t going to be there every step of that day, even if he decided to leave. 

“Transferring,” Bucky starts, as you look at him with anxiety running through your body in waves,  “From the VA center in Brooklyn to the one in Sunnyside.” 

“You wanna keep staying here?” you question in confusion, as he takes a spoonful of cake into his mouth though he can’t seem to take off that silly smile of his face. 

“Cupcake, I’ve been dreaming about finding you again for years,” Bucky states, as he cups your cheek with his hand. Blue eyes completely serious over his next words, “I’m not gonna let you leave my sight for a long while.” 

“Cornball,” you huff out as Bucky grins. 

“And what ‘bout ya?” he asks in return, while pulling away, “What about your brothers? Hell even your old apartment?” 

“Gonna visit Sal and my soon to be born baby niece for the holidays,” you smile thinking about how you might just end up spoiling her in the long run, before adding, “Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I only have this little cruddy apartment.”

“Really?” he asks just as skeptical as you had a second ago.

“Really, really,” you nod, as Bucky gets up in his chair in excitement. He proceeds to run over to your side of the counter, grabs you by your waist and proceeds to spin you without a care in the world. Your combined laughter bouncing off the walls for the rest of the evening.

This was home, for you and for him. 

And while, the world would certainly be moving and you would have obstacles to face, but you weren’t going to run away from them anymore. You were going to run at them with everything you had, because you weren’t alone anymore -- you had your brothers, your growing circle of friends, but most of all you had Bucky. 

Your Prince Bucket had found you once more, but this time around you had pulled each other from the endless slumber that you had set your lives in -- and as he twirled you around in your little kitchen with a large smile and bright blue eyes. 

You felt like the queen of the world and if you asked Bucky, you were the queen of his heart -- and you would say the same thing about him as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on the flip side: [writing tumblr](http://the-canary.tumblr.com/)


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